


In a Heartbeat

by clgfanfic



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny sees Martin get hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Come and Gone #2 under the pen name.

          When a case is finally over, you tend to let your guard down.  You know you you're not supposed to, but you just can't help it.  It's like all the adrenaline that's been coursing through your veins evaporates, and you feel like you could sleep for a week.  Your brain slows down, and your muscles turn stiff and sluggish.  It's a sad but true reality.

          So it didn't really come as huge surprise when Martin couldn't leap out of the way in time.  I'll never forget the sound, though, that dull, almost hollow _thunk_ , as that car struck him.

I couldn't move either.  All I could do was stand there and watch as the Lexus continued down the street, picking up speed in an effort to get away as quickly as possible.

          "Son-of-a-bitch!" I gasped as the reality of what I'd just witnessed hit me.  Martin was down.

          And then that lost adrenaline returned in a surge that freed my limbs from the paralysis that has held them immobile.

I was moving again, crossing the space separating us, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket at the same time and punching in 9-1-1 without even looking.  I had passed along the most pertinent information to the dispatcher before I even reached Martin.

          I paused as I got to him, fear freezing me again for a moment.  The way he was lying there…  I honestly thought he was dead for a moment.  But then he moaned, his eyes blinking open.  His expression was one of complete confusion, and who could blame him?  There was no way he could have seen that coming.

          "Easy," I told him, squatting down next to him.  "Don't move yet," I said, knowing at the same time that I couldn't just leave him lying out there in the middle of the street.  It wasn't safe.

          "W-What happened?" he asked me, blinking owlishly and trying to gather up the memories that hadn't even had a chance to implant themselves in his brain, and never would now.  He tried to sit up and I reached out, supporting his back with my arm and silently praying that he wasn't seriously hurt and doing more damage to himself.

          "Car hit you," I said.

          "Car?" he echoed, frowning.

          I could tell from his expression that his body was still numb, still silent on the pain that had to be lurking just under the surface of the shock that was holding him in its grip.  Then I saw it hit him.  His frown was jerked into a grimace and he squeezed his eyes shut, groaning low in his chest.

          "Oh shit," he hissed, curling in on himself even as he began rocking in short jerks.

          "Easy, easy," I said, not knowing what else to do.  He wasn't bleeding as far as I could tell, and it didn't look like he'd broken anything.  Luckily, I heard the first wails of the sirens and knew help was getting closer.

          Martin groaned again, the rocking picking up speed.  I wanted to hold him so he was off the pavement but, at the same time, I didn't want to hurt him, so I let him curl up on the ground and made sure I kept an eye out for traffic.  Luckily, the residential street stayed quiet.

          Another couple of minutes and the ambulance arrived, the paramedics asking me to give them some room and getting right to work.  I stumbled over to the curb, starting to shake all over.

Fumbling the cell phone out of my pocket, I called Jack.

          _"Malone,"_ he answered.

          "Jack," I said, "it's Danny.  Look, Martin's been hurt."

          "Hurt?  What's going on?  Where are you?"

          I took a deep breath, silently cursing the after-effects of that adrenaline surge.  "We're at Eloise Delmarco's," I said.  "We just talked to Mrs. Delmarco…  We were crossing the street to get back to the car and I asked Martin if he wanted to grab something to eat–"

          _"Danny,"_ Jack snapped when I started babbling like an idiot.

          "A car hit him.  Uh, hit and run.  Paramedics are working on him now."

          "All right," Jack said, his voice calm, the words clearly enunciated incase the idiot who had taken over my body was still in control.  "I want you to go with him to the hospital.  You understand?  Call me as soon as you get to the hospital and I'll meet you there."

          "Yeah, okay," I said, watching as the paramedics loaded Martin onto a stretcher.  I ended the call and slipped the cell phone back into my pocket.

          One of the medics turned to me, asking, "Are you hurt?"

          "No," I said.  "But I need to ride with him," I added, flashing my FBI badge and ID.  The woman nodded.

          I followed her, climbing into the passenger seat of the ambulance, the woman sliding in behind the wheel.  The other medic, a tall, thin Puerto Rican guy, stayed in the back with Martin.  I kept turning in my seat, trying to see what was happening in the back, but I just didn't have a good view, and the rearview mirror was set up for the driver, not the passenger.

          With a sigh I settled back in my seat and almost closed my eyes.  God I was tired, _exhausted_ , but I knew I was just coming down again off that second adrenaline high.  I was going to sleep twenty-fours straight as soon as I got the chance.

          I don't remember the drive to the hospital.  It felt like we got there pretty quick, but I have no idea how long it actually took.  I looked up, noted the name, and was digging out my cell phone as I was climbing out of the ambulance.  I was talking to Jack, passing along the name as I walked through the doors into the ER.

They wheeled Martin off and I tried to follow, but a nurse intercepted me and pointed me to the waiting room.  I dropped into a soft-looking chair, stretching out my legs and leaning my head back.  My eyes dropped closed before I could mount a defense and the next thing I knew, Jack was there, standing beside my chair, shaking me awake.

"Any news?" he asked me.

It took me a long moment to put the words together in my head and then strangle some meaning out of them, but they finally sank in and I shook my head.

"You sure you're all right?" he asked me, giving me that look that said no matter what I said, he'd already reached his own conclusion.

"Yeah," I said, "I'm fine."  Jack saw right though the lie, but what was I going to say?  _No, I'm not all right.  I just saw my lover get hit by a fucking car.  I thought he was dead, and it felt like someone had tried to rip my heart right out of my chest without the benefit of anesthesia_.

No, that wouldn't have been smart.  Not smart at all.

Jack gave me a look I read as:   _All right, I won't push, but I know you're not telling me something_.  But that was fine.  I didn't really care if he thought I was holding something back.  I only cared if he figured out what was going on between Martin and me.  Not that I think he'd have any trouble with the fact that we were both men, just that he knows better than most how hard it is to make a relationship between coworkers turn out successfully.

I watched as Jack sat down on the sofa next to the chair where I was sitting.  He sighed softly, his expression strained.  He was worried.  That eased the cold that had settled into my bones.  Martin was convinced Jack didn't respect him, and liked him even less.  I'd tried telling him that Jack was just prickly, that you had to learn how to read between the lines when it came to him, but Martin hadn't heard me yet.

But I'd learned how to do both, and what I saw told me that Jack was worried, which meant that he did care about what happened to Martin, and if he cared, then he liked him, and if he liked him, then he respected him.  Problem solved.  But then I'd known that all along.  Getting Martin to believe me, that was another matter.  Jack and Martin are a lot alike, something I think they'd both rather _not_ think about too much.

"Want to tell me what happened?" Jack asked me, his voice soft.  He was giving me a way to talk it out, get past it, but he didn't understand that there were parts of it that I'd never get past.  At least not until I got Martin home and could see for myself, in my own way, that he was really all right.

But I nodded.  "We'd just finished talking to Mrs. Delmarco…  We had to cross the street to get to the car.  Martin checked for traffic and then started across.  I asked him about grabbing something to eat.  He looked back at me to respond…  I never saw the car coming, and neither did he.  It was a dark Lexus, black, or maybe navy blue.  It never stopped.  Martin went down.  I called 9-1-1…"

Jack nodded.  "You get a plate?"

"No.  Didn't even look," I admitted, which earned me a frown.  It was a stupid comment on my part, but more stupid _not_ to have looked.  Still, I had to be more careful.  I didn't want to open my mouth and choke on my shoe.

"Police talked to you yet?"

I shook my head.  "But that's just about to change."  I nodded at the two officers headed our way.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

It took about half an hour, but the officers wrung every detail they could out of me and left.  The likelihood of finding the driver was slim, but I hoped they did.

What I really wanted was a few minutes alone with the asshole, but I knew that would never happen; probably for the best, too.  I'd discovered I had something of a possessive streak when it came to Martin, and I would have enjoyed hurting the prick way too much to be allowed to do it.

The officers headed back to see if they could get a statement from Martin and I wanted to go with them, but I knew the nurses would only stop me and send me back here to wait, so I watched them go, feeling irrationally jealous.  _They_ could go see the man I'd fallen in love with, but _I_ couldn't?  Where the hell was the justice in that?

I know, I know, they were just doing their job, but that didn't make me any less annoyed with them.  Not at the time anyway.

See what I mean about that possessive streak?

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Another hour drifted past.  At some point Jack went for coffee and brought back a cup for me, but I knew I couldn't drink it.  My stomach was already churning.  Last thing I needed was more fuel for the acid-fire.

"Danny," Jack said.

The tone sounded odd to my ear, which is why it caught my attention.  A good thing, really, because I was starting to drift off again, sitting there in that soft chair.

I looked up and there was Martin!  He was walking stiffly down the hall toward us.

I was on my feet and moving before I'd realized what I was actually seeing.  And I was at his side before the smart side of my brain kicked in and reminded me that Jack was still there, watching us.  I stopped short of touching him and asked, "You all right, man?"

Martin looked up at me, his expression slightly hurt, but then he caught sight of Jack and I saw his expression change.  "Yeah, I'll be fine," he said.  "Just some deep bruises that are going to last for a while."

We walked the rest of the way back to the waiting room without speaking.  Jack stood.

"What did the doctor say?" he asked Martin, his gaze sweeping over him, taking in his slightly stooped stance, the way Martin's weight was shifted onto one foot, and the emerging bruise on the man's cheek.

"Just bruises and a few patches of road burn.  I'm going to be stiff and sore for a few days…  Doctor gave me a couple of prescriptions that they're filling at the pharmacy here."  Before he could add anything more, an older man walked up to join us.

"Agent Fitzgerald," he called and Martin turned slowly.

"Doctor," he greeted.

Jack stepped up.  "I'm Agent Fitzgerald's supervisor," he said.  "I'll need a copy of the medical report sent to my office."

The older man nodded.  "If you can leave a business card I'll see to it that a copy is sent over to you."

Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, handing it over to the physician.  "When can Agent Fitzgerald return to work?"

The man thought for a moment before he replied.  "I'd say three, maybe four days."  He looked at Martin and added, "Here are some instructions for you.  Soaking will help some, and the cream you'll be picking up.  Make sure you get up and moving a little every couple of hours for the next two days.  If you have any rapid swelling, give my office a call."

"Right," Martin said.  "Thank you, Doctor."

The physician nodded and left.  I waited a moment and then said, "I'll go pick up those prescriptions.  You wait here, okay?"

"Thanks," Martin replied, giving me a quick look that showed just how grateful he really was.  He had to be hurting pretty bad, and all I wanted was to get him out of there, but I knew Jack needed to ask him some questions.  I just hoped he'd be ready to let Martin go when I got back.

I hurried off to find the pharmacy, which turned out to be on the same floor, just a different wing.  I showed them my ID, asked for Martin's order and they handed me a sack and told me all the instructions were inside.  I thanked them and headed straight back to the waiting room.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Where's Jack?" I asked Martin, glancing around for Malone.

"Gone.  Sam showed up.  She and Viv picked up the car for us; Jack's taking Sam back to work.  He said to tell you that you're supposed to make sure I get home."  He grinned slightly then, and I did the same.

I could have kissed him right there.  Damn, he's adorable, even black and blue.  "Great," I said.  "You ready to go home then?"

He nodded and pushed slowly to his feet.  I winced when I saw him begin to limp toward the exit.  "Your place or mine?" I asked him.

"Yours," was the immediate reply.

My place was closer, so that made sense.  I just hoped that I could get away with calling in tomorrow and telling Jack that I was staying with Martin to make sure that he was all right.  I figured I could probably milk it for a day, but that was it.  Any more than that and it would raise the man's suspicions.  But a day home with Martin would be nice, especially since we'd just finished a case, so there wasn't anything pending.

Maybe I could stretch it out to two days if I told Jack I wasn't feeling too good either.

Martin eased into the passenger seat and I closed the door, then jogged around the car and climbed in behind the wheel.  As I pulled away I said, "Thought you were dead for a minute there."

It didn't come out sounding as light as I'd planned, and I saw Martin turn to look at me.  "Danny, it wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, I know," I replied, but I was still feeling responsible.  If I hadn't distracted him, maybe he would have seen that car coming and could have gotten out of the way.  Woulda, shoulda, coulda…  You can't second-guess.  It'll just end up getting you killed.  Still…

The rest of the drive passed in silence.  Martin leaned his head back and dozed and I let him rest, knowing he needed it.

When we got to my place, I parked and walked around to open the door for him, helping him out.

We walked slowly to my place and he leaned against the wall while I fished out my keys and unlocked the door.  Going inside, I told Martin I was going to call Jack, let him know that he was staying with me, and that I'd be back as soon as I could.

Martin nodded, shuffling off down the hallway and stopping at the bathroom before heading into the bedroom.

I got hold of Jack, told him where we were and that I planned to stick around tomorrow to make sure Martin was all right and that he took all the medications the doctor had given him.  Jack agreed that would be a good idea and told me to keep Martin for two days, then, if he was doing all right, he could go home and I could head back to work.

I silently cheered.  I'd gotten my two days and it had been relatively painless.  Amazing.

As soon as I hung up, I opened the bag I'd picked up at the pharmacy and dumped out the contents – two bottles of pills and a white, plastic jar with some kind of white cream in it.  I read the instructions on the pill bottles, twice, then tapped out the prescribed dose, filled a glass with water, and grabbed the bottle of cream before heading back to the bedroom.

Martin was already undressed and sitting on the edge of the bed.  He looked up when I entered.  I handed him the pills, then the glass of water.  He took them without argument, which told me just how tired and sore he really was.  The man hates medicine.

Once he was lying down and I got the covers pulled up over him, I read the directions on the label of the cream, but when I looked up to ask Martin if he wanted me to put some of it on him now, he was already sound asleep.

I couldn't help but smile.  He looks so damn young when he'd sleeping…  It's a little disturbing sometimes; makes me feel like I'm some kind of dirty old man.  But just until he wakes up and gives me that "fuck me" look.

I set the jar on the nightstand and went in to change and visit the bathroom, then came back and climbed in next to him.

Martin's got this radar when he's asleep – he hones in on a heat source and he cuddles with a vengeance.  And, even hurting like I knew he was, he still shifted so he was pressed up against me.  Some things _never_ change, and if they do, it's time to call in the Marines.

I wrapped my arm around him and was asleep myself before I closed my eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The alarm went off like it was a normal morning.  I groped in the darkness, slapping the sleep button to shut it up.  I knew I had to get up and actually turn it off or it would be back on in ten minutes, but I wasn't thinking too clearly just yet.

Martin didn't even jerk, sleeping right through the radio going off, my soft curses, and the shifting as I climbed out of bed.

          I turned off the alarm and then headed to the bathroom.  When I returned to the bedroom, Martin was still sound asleep, so I climbed back into bed and drifted off again, sleeping for another four hours, waking only when Martin finally stirred.

          I can't say that he really woke up at that point, but he was conscious enough to get up and make a bathroom run, then he came straight back to bed.

I laid there for a while, watching him sleep and enjoying the fact that he was alive and more or less whole and well.

Getting killed in a hit and run on the streets of a suburban neighborhood…  Man, that just wasn't the way an FBI agent wants to go, you know?  It's just not… dignified.  Not that I want him to _go_ at all.  I'm looking forward to the two of us getting old and grumpy together.  But if we have to go on the job, then I know we'd both rather go doing something important, something that means something.

          I reached out, running my fingers through this hair and heard him sigh contentedly.  I love that sound, and I never get tired of hearing it.

One of my goals in life is to discover every possible way to make it happen.

          Then, lifting up the covers, I checked out the bruises.  Man, they looked _terrible_.  I could tell they were going to get worse before they got better, too, but they were already well on their way to that ugly purple-black color.  They covered half of Martin's body, all along his right side, from chest to knee.

          I lowered the blankets and shook my head.  Poor Martin.  He was going to hurt like hell when he finally woke up.

          I eased out of bed and made straight for the kitchen and the coffee maker.  After my first cup I headed back to the bedroom to see if Martin was awake yet, but he was still sleeping.  I was getting a little worried, so I reached out and gently shook his shoulder.

          "Huh?  What?" he mumbled, face screwing up into a mask of pure annoyance.  If looks could kill, he'd be up on murder one charges.

          "Come on, Martin," I encouraged.  "It's almost ten o'clock."

          "Ten?" he asked, eyes slipping closed again.

          "I made coffee."

          "Mmm," was the reply as he snuggled deeper into the bed and almost disappeared under the covers.

          "Martin?"

          Nothing.  He was out again.  I shook my head and went back to the kitchen for a second cup, which I drank while I was watching CNN in the living room.  I fell asleep lying on the sofa, and didn't wake up until after one.

          When I climbed off the couch and headed back to the bedroom, I heard Martin in the bathroom.  I waited, leaning back against the wall of the hallway.  A couple of minute later he came shuffling out, and headed right back to the bed.

          "Martin, didn't the doctor tell you to move around?"

          "I am movin'," he mumbled.  "See?  Movin' my ass right back into that bed…"

          "Martin…"

          "Wake me up in the morning."

          "Martin…"

          "G'night, Danny."

          "Martin!"

          Nothing.  He was asleep, again.  Okay, by now I was getting a little weirded out.  Was this normal?  Could a hit like that cause narcolepsy?  I decided I better go call the doctor.

But the physician who had treated Martin in the ER said sleeping like that wasn't all that unusual.  However, he did tell me to call tomorrow if Martin did the same thing, or bring him in to be seen.

          So I fixed myself something to eat, watched a little more CNN, read the paper, ate again and then headed back to bed.  I was still tired myself, but I knew another night and I'd be caught up.

          Once I was settled, Martin shifted so he was pressed up against me and I felt myself stir with interest, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get a rise out of him, so I just kissed his shoulder, draped my arm over his chest, and pulled him close.

I slept twelve hours straight.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          I woke the next morning to the sound of the phone ringing.  I climbed out of the bed and grabbed it.  "Yeah?"

          "Danny?"

          "Yeah…?"

"Danny, you all right?"

"Huh?  Oh, Jack.  Hi."

          "Are you all right?" he asked me again, although now he sounded more than a little amused.  "Sounds like I just woke you up."

          "You did," I countered.

          "It's almost nine o'clock, you up late with Martin last night?"

          I had to grin, wishing I had been.  "No.  He's basically been asleep since I brought him home from the hospital."

          "What?"

          "It's all right.  I called the doctor yesterday and he said it's fine, as long as he wakes up today."

          "But he's still sleeping?"

          I glanced over at the bed.  "Huh, no," I managed, wishing I was close enough to strangle Fitzgerald where he was lying.  "No, he's definitely awake now," I told Jack.  "In fact, I think I better go see if he needs some help getting up."

Martin grinned at that one, the annoying son-of-a-bitch.

          "All right; call me later and let me know how he's doing.  You, too.  Sounds like you're both going to need another day."

          "Uh, yeah, good idea," I agreed.  "Bye, Jack."  I hung up and stalked back to the bed where Martin was still lying, the blankets kicked off, his hand inside his briefs, stroking himself.  The head of his erect cock was just peeking out over the top of his waistband.

          "Don't need any help getting up," he told me, his voice a little more raspy than usual.

          I gulped and felt my breath catch in my throat.  Martin can drive me over the edge faster than anyone I've ever met.  Unfortunately, he knows it, too.

I couldn't help but stare, watching like prey under a cobra's gaze while his hand glided up and down on his growing erection.  I felt the flush wash over my body, but I didn't care.  All I wanted was to get my hands on that beautiful cock.

          I climbed onto the bed, reaching immediately for his briefs, stretching the elastic and jerking them down over his hips.  I heard a soft chuckle, but I ignored it, wrestling the underwear down Martin's thighs and calves and then pulling them off and tossing them to the floor.

          His hand remained on his hard shaft, his fingers tightening and relaxing as he rhythmically squeezed himself.  I slapped his hand away.

          "Danny," he said, half-growl, half-command.

          But I had my own plans, and he could just goddamn wait and enjoy them when I got around to him.

          I reached out, grabbing hold of the thick shaft and felt it jump under my touch.  Martin reached out, rubbing his hand over my arm and shoulder, but I slapped that touch away as well.  Then I grinned and looked up, meeting his eyes.  Martin's got some of the bluest eyes I've ever seen; you can see his soul in them.  I took his wrist and lifted his arm.  His fingers curled around one of the teak rails of the headboard.  His other hand came up and he gripped another rail.

          "Don't let go," I told him sternly, then leaned over and began to suckle one of his already hard nipples.

          Martin pressed his chest up, a low, soft moan escaping his lips.  I could hear his grip tightening on the wood as I ran my hand down his belly, my fingers pushing through the soft tangle of hair at his groin and closing on his veiny shaft.  I squeezed and pulled, letting my grip loosen just enough so my hand slid up to catch under the base of the flared crown.  I love the shape of it, bullet-like, but flared like a mushroom cap at the edge.  A pearly drop of precome sat in the slit, growing larger as I watched it.

          I shifted, flicked my tongue out and wiped that drop away.

          Martin groaned, his fingers tightening again around the wood.

          I kissed the tip of his cock head, licking away another drop that filled the slit and then opened my mouth and sucked in the head, my lips closing and tugging at the edge.  Martin's hips came up as he tried to force more of himself into my mouth, but I denied him, swirling my tongue over the spongy head and nibbling it.

          "Danny…" he moaned, his head rolling from side to side.

          Releasing Martin, I leaned over and opened the nightstand drawer, pulling out the bottle of KY.  He was watching me, the need in his eyes almost making me come right then and there.

          I poured some of the lube into my palm and rubbed it over my aching cock.  Then I squeezed out a little more and climbed between Martin's legs.  He bent his knees and I reached in and rubbed the slick liquid into the crack of his ass.

Finding the tight pucker buried there, I rubbed the lube over it, stroking it, rubbing in circles until he was pressing his hips down, over and over, trying to impale himself.

          When he started to jerk and twitch I poked my finger past that tight ring of muscle and buried it inside him.  He was so hot and so tight that my cock jumped in anticipation.

          I twisted my finger back and forth a few times, then pulled it out and added more KY.  Carefully pressing in two fingers, I grinned as he gasped and writhed on them, immediately trying to force me in deeper.

          "Not so fast," I growled at him, my free hand reaching down to jerk myself a few times.  "Let go and turn over," I told him, pulling my fingers out of his ass and moving back a little.

          Martin rolled over onto his belly and lifted his hips so his ass was poking up into the air.  The man has an absolutely beautiful ass, and I _never_ thought I'd say that about a man, but it's true.  And, God help me, I can't resist it.

          I moved up close behind him and parted his cheeks with my hands, then paused, staring into his delicious crack.  His hole looked so small compared to the bulbous head of my erection that, for a moment, I couldn't imagine how I was going to force myself into him.

          I prodded my still-slick finger inside him again and heard him whimper with need as I stretched him a little more.  I pulled out and slid two back in.

The muscles of his sphincter gripped my fingers tightly, so I spent a little time gently loosening him up.

          "Doing okay?" I asked, rubbing the index finger of my other hand along my cock shaft to make it slick, and then pushed it into the impossibly tight channel beside my other two fingers.

          "Danny," he gasped in reply, his hips grinding in circles.  "Oh God…"

          I was aching to get inside of him and I heard my name more as a plea for just that than anything else.

Pulling my fingers out, I moved, pressing my cock head up tight against his orifice.  I thrust once, sinking halfway into him, but then his muscles closed up tight.  I stopped, running my hands up and down his back, his hips, his butt cheeks.  I cooed to him, soothing words tumbling out of my mouth.  I wanted to push farther inside him, but I could sense he wasn't ready, so I held still, waiting a little while longer.

Then I felt his muscles begin to convulse around my erection and knew that, in a minute or two, I was going to be able to take him the way he wanted to be taken.

          After a short pause, I pulled my cock out of Martin's ass a little ways, then thrust forward, sinking an inch or two deeper inside of him than I had the first time.  Once again I felt him close up, his muscles hugging me tight and stopping me from going any deeper.

          I leaned forward and began kissing his shoulders, my lips brushing lightly over his skin.  A few moments later the muscles began to loosen their grip on me and I was able to start pushing the rest of my cock inside him.

          As I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper between his cheeks, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop again, not until I was wholly buried.  It was like my prick hijacked my brain.

I kept raining kisses down on his back until I felt my balls crush up against his ass.

"Oh God," I heard him gulp.  "Oh God…  Danny…  You feel so good…"

My hips jerked against him, spearing my cock head in as deep as I could get it.

"Danny…" he groaned, pressing back against me.  "Danny, do it…  Fuck me, damn it."

I straightened up and took a firm hold on his hips, then began to pump in and out of that tight passage.  The pent-up tension and fear that I'd been holding in check since seeing Martin hit by that car poured out of me in a series of harder and harder stabs as I upped the speed and strength of my thrusts.

He urged me on.  "Yes, oh, yes….  Yes, hard, Danny, hard…  Yes…"

It wasn't very long before I was slamming in and out of Martin's hole with ferocious, fevered passion that had him squealing after every thrust.

          "Oh, yeah, like that!" Martin shouted after one particularly hard plunge.

I was pulling back as far as my crown every time I withdrew, meaning that, on every forward thrust at least eight inches of my hard shaft were plunging inside his body.  Occasionally I was treating him to a full nine-inch thrust, which produced the loudest cries of all.

I withdrew my cock until only the very tip of my crown was left inside him before ramming the whole thing straight back home again.

          "Harder!  Danny, harder!" I heard Martin yell as my cock slammed in and out of his hungry hole.

Doing as he asked, I forced my hips to jerk with more power.  Sweat dripped down my chest and torso from the exertion, but I was loving it.  I was building to an amazing climax, and I wanted Martin to share that moment with me.  I wanted us both to celebrate the fact that we were alive and able to love like this.

I reached around his body and tightened my fingers around his engorged shaft.  And every time I thrust my cock into his ass, I tugged my fingers back, forcing Martin's prick to fuck my fist.  His crown was already pulsating, so I knew it wouldn't take too many jerks to make him shoot his load.

He was howling with pleasure.  "Again!  Yes!  Danny, again!" he yelled as he crown began to vibrate in my hand, making it clear just how close he was to ejaculating.

And I knew just how to drive him over the edge.

I withdrew my cock all the way to the entrance of his hole.  He squealed in desperation, thinking that I was pulling out.  But then I dove back into him with one final, orgasmic thrust of my hips.

My crown began to expand and contract deep inside his ass, spitting out my jism.  Martin quickly returned the favor, his entire cock throbbing hard as jets of his come rocketed up his shaft and splattered against my fingers.

God, it felt so good, feeling him shooting into my hand while I filled his guts like that.

Then I was thrusting in and out his ass again, getting off on the feel of his muscles convulsing around my erection.  It felt like they were trying to suck more juice out of my nuts, and the convulsions felt so good to me that they easily succeeded in the task.  My crown contracted for a final time, and the very last traces of jism I possessed spurted out inside Martin's tight hole.

I let go of Martin's cock and felt his come dripping down my fingers.  I lifted them to my lips and licked them clean.

Once I withdrew from his hole, Martin turned over, panting for breath.  I lay down next to him and we kissed and fondled each other, just enjoying the lingering afterglow, which was almost as good as getting off all over again.  I never get tired of touching Martin, or him touching me.

At some point we had to get up and visit the john, but we came right back and climbed into bed, wet spot and all.  I pulled Martin up close against me, wanting that reassurance that he was there, real and alive.

"Danny?" he asked me.

"I'm all right," I told him.  "Just can't stop seeing you laying there.  You know it can all be over in a heartbeat, but something like that…"

"Drives home the point," he finished for me.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"I'm fine."

"You're bruised, stiff, sore–"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, I guess you are."

He patted my thigh.  "I am now."

I rolled my eyes and sighed.  Sex was like some kind of magic healing elixir for Martin.  Anyone else would have been too sore to do what we had, but for him it's like a faith healer had touched him and he'd jumped up out of his wheelchair, ready to tango.

"When are you going back to work?" he asked me.

"Tomorrow," I told him.

"Mmm, good," he purred, his hand reaching down to gently cup my soft cock.

"You need to sleep," I scolded him.

"Been sleeping," he countered.  "Now I need to do what the doctor said I should – move."

"I don't think this is what he had in mind," I said, but I already knew I'd lost the battle, my own body betraying me, my cock slowly beginning to fill again.

"He just said I should get some exercise," Martin said, his thumb rubbing over the head of my cock before his fingers moved down to cup my balls, rolling them back and forth.

I groaned.  "Martin," I said, hoping I might get him to see reason for once.  I really ought to have known better, you know?

He edged closer, his leg slipping over mine, pinning me there.  His fingers closed around my balls, squeezing just hard enough that the mixture of pleasure and pain had my cock filling faster than I thought it could.  But I should have known it wasn't going to go the way I expected either.

The next moment, Martin was sound asleep.

I was lying there with a raging hard-on, and my partner, my friend, my _lover_ was sound asleep.

Martin, you have to love the guy.  At least he was still pressed up against me, his fingers still curled possessively around my nuts.

I took a deep breath and let the erection fade, drifting off to sleep myself.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Given how we'd fallen asleep, I guess I should have known I'd wake up in a real fix.

          Martin was kneeling over me, his thighs on either side of my legs.

He sat down, reaching back to shove my already hard cock into his exposed crack.

          "Fuck," I groaned as I felt the satin heat of Martin's ass crack and that puckered slot mashed against my cock head.

          "You bet," Martin replied, staring down into my eyes, shoving his own stiff cock against my belly and chest.

          "Martin," I gasped, my cock twitching between his sleek butt cheeks, "what are you doing?  You've gotta be sore–"

          He leaned over and grabbed the KY, then slapped it into my hand.  I swallowed hard and opened the lid, squeezing out some onto my fingers.  I reached back to cram them up into Martin's ass beside my cock.  Instead of rubbing my cock with them, I found Martin's hole and jabbed at it.  We both grunted as my fingers slammed past his convulsing muscle.

          I groaned.  "God, Martin, you're so damn _tight_ …"

          "I'm going to squeeze you tight, Danny… not going to let go until you blow," he said breathlessly as I twisted and turned my fingers inside him.  He shivered and arched his back, wiggling his ass over my invading fingers lustily.

          Martin reached out and grabbed the bottle of KY, opening it and squeezing out more of the slick liquid onto my other fingers, his hand shaking slightly as he did.

          I crammed my other hand up behind Martin in his crack.  I slid my fingers out and immediately replaced them with the others, shoving and twisting.

          Martin grunted and bit his lower lip, humping my fingers before rising up and gasping, "Danny… inside me – _now_."

          Just as I slid my fingers from his hole, Martin sat down, his hands firm around my erection.  The twitching muscles parted and my cock head slid inside him.  Martin moaned and shook all over, the ache nearly unbearable as I stretched him from the inside.  The only solution to the powerful agony was to force more of my cock up his ass.

          Slowly and deliberately, he sat down on my rod, swallowing inch after painful inch while his muscles throbbed and expanded and finally accepted me to the root.  How he stayed so damn tight after we'd just done this a few hours earlier, I'll never know.

          "Oh Christ, Martin," I moaned, my cock encased in a quivering heat at chased every rational thought I'd ever had straight out of my head.  And Martin, my beautiful, handsome Martin, was quaking in my lap, his cock stiff and drooling against my chest.

          I had both hands clasped around his smooth ass cheeks, squeezing them almost as tightly as his hole was clenching around my aching cock.

          Martin stared down into my eyes as he began to slowly rise off my dick.  His sphincter puckered around my shaft and my hand came up, my fingers finding his hole and feeling those muscles stretch and strain as they released more and more of me.

          He rose up until just my head was trapped inside his tight rim.  He hesitated and we both ran our hands up and down my thick shaft, feeling the girth about to drive back into Martin's snug glove.

          "Take it," I urged him, but it almost sounded like I was begging, and I guess I was.  I needed to be inside him.  All the way inside him.

          Martin managed a shaky smile just before he began to sit back down on my meat.  We both groaned as my hot pole slithered back up his hole, inch by inch, until I was once more completely buried up his slot.

          Martin squirmed and writhed, his ass jerking in circles over my lap once he had me back inside him.  His hole relaxed just enough for the pain to subside, replaced, I knew, by a heated throb that seemed to possess him.  He loves the feel of my cock up his ass.  And once he has it buried there, he wants to fuck it until he makes me spew.

          "Gonna make you scream, Danny," he growled at me, staring down into my eyes and squeezing me with his muscles.

          I groaned and jerked my hips against him, wanting to just disappear into his body, to live under his skin forever and never come out.

          Martin reached down with both hands and seized my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.  He twisted and pulled, and I did scream as a burning lust shot though my body.

          He began humping my cock, pinching my nipples again and again.

The twin sensations of my cock being squeezed and rubbed and my nipples being tugged and twisted had me writhing all over the bed in a gasping fit.

          Martin rode my cock hard, crying out every time my dick head pounded his prostate while my thick shaft stretched and teased his opening.

          "I wanna feel you come, Danny," he hissed at me.  "Come on, Danny, give it to me… give it to me… fill me up."

          He rose and fell faster, massaging my hard bone with the rapid thrusts of his ass.  My fingers clamped onto and kneaded Martin's firm ass cheeks, lifting and pulling down on his butt to increase the tempo as I moaned and grunted under him.

          "Oh shit," I gasped.  "Fuck!  Here it comes!"  A river of jism roared out of my nuts, racing down my shaft and bursting into Martin's hole.

          "Yes!" he cried, throwing his head back, driving himself up and down on me in a fury of need, his hand jerking frantically on his own cock.  And, as soon as he felt his guts being filled by my seed, his cock blew, splattering my lips, chest and belly with long, stringy strands of his come.

          In the rapture of release, Martin stared down at me, realizing that he'd come all over my lips.  I snaked out my tongue and lapped it up, which made his body jerk and he shot out another load that landed right in my mouth.

          Martin's body jerked and shook, more jism oozing from his cock even as he continued to squirm against my lap, trying to keep me buried all the way inside him.  His muscles convulsed and quivered, drawing the last drops of my own come out of my balls.

I lifted my knees and he leaned back against them, trying to catch his breath.  I could feel myself getting soft, but I was still crammed up Martin's ass, trapped inside him until he moved, but I didn't want him to move.

"Sore?" I asked him when he hadn't moved an inch for several minutes.

His eyes slowly opened and he grinned down at me.  "Some, but it's not as bad as I expected."

"Glad to hear it.  I think a soak in the tub might be a good idea," I told him.

He squeezed his muscles, sending a shock of pleasure rippling through my groin, but I knew I couldn't get it up again, not for a little while, at least.

"Do you ever wish we could stay like this forever?" Martin asked me.

"Yeah, I do," I told him.  "All the time."

He grinned at me and leaned forward, my soft cock sliding out of his warm ass.  Then his lips were on mine and he was kissing me, our tongues exploring.  A moment later, he eased himself down next to me and stretched out, pressing himself against me.

"You want to take a bath with me?" he asked me.

"Sure," I agreed, smiling.

We climbed out of bed, Martin groaning as he tried to stand up straight.  "Funny," he said, "it doesn't hurt this much when we're making love."

I shook my head.  "Have you thought that maybe making love is going to make it hurt more after the fact?"

He stopped, blue eyes twinkling with that devilish glint I love.  "Worth it."

I stepped up to him and wrapped him in a gentle hug.  "I'm just glad you're here."

"Me, too," he said, then turned his head and suckled my ear lobe.

"Christ!  You're impossible," I sighed.  "Come on, first a bath and then we're going to Angie's for breakfast."

"You buying?"

"Hell no," I told him.  "You are."

"Me?"

"Yes, you.  You're the one who scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry," he replied and I knew he was sincere.

I wagged my eyebrows at him.  "And when we get home… I'm going to rub that cream into the bruises like the doctor said to."

"That all you're going to do?" he asked, his voice reminding me of a little kid's.

"Hell yes that's all!"

"Danny…"  It was downright whiny.

"You need to rest, Martin, let yourself heal."

"But–"

"No, definitely no more butts for a couple of days."

" _Days?_ "

I rolled my eyes.  "Days!  Two, at least."

" _Two?_ "

He made it sound like I was telling him he'd been cut off for two _years_ instead of two days.  "Two," I repeated.

He sighed heavily, dramatically, but he walked over and started digging out some clothes.  As he walked away, he shook his ass at me and I knew I'd never be able to hold on to that resolve.  But what else is new?

He was alive, and if he wanted me, well, how could I say no?

God knows I don't want to say no, not now, not ever.  He knows his limits.  I just have to get past the image of him lying there on the ground…  He's _not_ dead.  He's just bruised.  He'll be fine.

And he's mine, all fucking mine.

The End


End file.
